Murder in Style by Veronica Heley

…’
    She turned on Leather Jacket. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll get the money somehow, I swear I will!’
    Did Ellie imagine it? Did Trixie shoot a glance at the businessman? She wasn’t appealing for help, was she? No, she was issuing what looked like a challenge. What was all that about?
    Ellie could feel someone’s eyes on her.
    Clemmie was looking at Ellie in considering fashion. Suspiciously? Yes.
    Ray had lost his cool. Trixie was in the process of doing so, deliberately, enjoying herself. Hysteria loomed.
    The businessman stood up. ‘Ray, you’d better come and see me, tomorrow.’ It was a statement. An order. Understated but real. And then, he walked out. Just. Like. That.
    Ray screamed, ‘Don’t go! I swear to you—’
    The solicitor held out the folder containing the will. ‘I’ll leave you with a copy of—’
    Ray snatched the folder, and tore it in pieces. ‘That for your—!’
    â€˜Enough!’ Gerald Cordover, heaving himself to his feet, trying to defuse the situation.
    Clemmie collected a couple of dirty cups and saucers, signalled to Ellie to follow her, and left the room. Ellie went after her with the half-empty platter of sandwiches.
    In the kitchen, Clemmie didn’t even bother to open the dishwasher. She said, ‘Who are you? You aren’t agency staff, are you? You understood what was going on. You
knew
what was going to happen, which was more than I did. So I’m asking, who and what are you?’
    â€˜Ellie Quicke. I run a local charity. Your grandfather and grandmother asked me to be present, because they were desperately worried about the situation and wanted me to help sort it out. As if I could! Your grandfather thought I might be able to talk to Trixie about achieving her ambition to be a film star—’
    â€˜Wait a minute. He wouldn’t do that. He thinks it’s a stupid idea.’
    â€˜I agree. He thought he could use it as an excuse to introduce me to the family. I didn’t think it was a good idea, either, but he was so unhappy … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I apologize. I’ll leave straight away.’
    â€˜And tittle-tattle about what you’ve heard?’
    â€˜Certainly not.’ Ellie was beginning to like young Clemmie because she did seem capable of thinking of other people. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. The fact is that your grandparents want me to look into your aunt’s death.’
    Clemmie shot Ellie a sideways look. And breathed out, very very slowly. ‘Ah. So that’s it. But Ray’s got an alibi.’
    â€˜You aren’t shocked by the idea that he might have caused your aunt’s death?’
    Clemmie lifted her hands and let them fall. ‘I don’t know. I can’t think straight. We’re all so tired, so worried. We don’t … we daren’t talk about … or even think it. End of.’ She turned away to put some of the dirty cups into the dishwasher. She was not going to volunteer any more information.
    The front door slammed shut. The businessman departing?
    It opened again. Closed gently. The solicitor leaving, too?
    Ellie could hear angry voices, trying to shout over one another. Trixie, heading fast into hysteria! Would she let rip with a scream or two? Mm, possibly.
    Gerald’s voice rose, angry.
    Marika’s softer voice, trying to diffuse the situation.
    Juno’s husband had a penetrating voice. ‘All of you! Shut up!’
    As if that would do any good. And now, yes, Trixie let go with a full-blooded scream. Perhaps she would do well in horror films.
    A woman’s voice, distressed. ‘I think perhaps I should go.’ Celine?
    â€˜Trixie, behave!’ Marika trying to help?
    Gerald’s voice. ‘Once Trixie starts …!’
    The door to the back room slammed, and there was peace in the kitchen.
    Clemmie was weeping. She didn’t try to hide